In Sickness and in Health
by Phx
Summary: John isn't always there when his sons need him; but sometimes... he is.


Thanks Alaina for the beta :)

This is just a bit of pre-series fluff.

**In Sickness and in Health**

It hadn't been raining when Sam left the motel that morning.

In fact, except for the sky being a bit overcast, there wasn't even any sign of the nastiness that waited for the rest of this Monday; 'a freak front' the teachers had mumbled during lunch period. Not that it would have mattered because he didn't have an umbrella anyways and even if he did, the whipping wind would have made short work of it.

Outside, cars, trucks and SUVs cluttered the parking lot and lined the sides of the street but Sam didn't even bother looking amidst the mass because there'd be no one there for him. His older brother having graduated a year ago was on a hunt with a friend of their father's and the man himself was also out of town, promising to be back sometime tonight.

Sam wished he were with one of them, not looking forward to the long walk back to the motel. It was not bad enough that it was going to be very wet and cold, but the same coughing and hacking cold that kept him from leaving with his father Friday night, had moved into a throbbing headache and sore throat that he just could not get rid of.

Oh well, he decided glumly as he stalled at the main door waiting for the absolute last moment to face the weather, at least he had a hoodie to keep his head from getting soaked. Yeah, he decided, this was going to be a very miserable experience... at the best.

Leaving the school, the teenager shrugged his heavy backpack up on his shoulder and tried to ignore the biting sting of the frigid rain against his face, or the more searing pain of hearing families greet their teenagers through open vehicle doors, promising warmth and dryness on the drive home. Yes, Sam knew his family loved him but sometimes feeling it in such a simple gesture as being picked up after school would have been nice...

Shaking his head he forced his thoughts onto more concrete things like how he was going to organize the article he had to write for Current Studies. Anything to keep his mind off the journey... or the destination as Sam hated going home to an empty motel room.

But his father would be home later tonight and Dean was only a phone call away so there was some comfort in that. It wasn't like Sam was alone. Not really. He was just by himself.

And then a rough voice called out, "Sammy," and Sam jumped, startled at hearing his name. He turned towards a truck parked on the other side of the street and gaped in shock at the man leaning out of the rolled down window –

it was his father.

"Dad?" Sam gawked, his voice high in disbelief, unable to grasp that the hunter was here.

"C'mon, boy," John Winchester called out already starting to roll up his window. "We ain't got all day."

Sam wasted no time hurrying across the street and climbing into the passenger side of the truck. "Dad?" he repeated still in shock.

The hunter chuckled gruffly. "So I've been told." He eyed Sam's seatbelt with purpose then turned the big truck on once he saw Sam fiddling with the clasp. "C'mon, kiddo," he spoke warmly, "let's get you home."

"But – I thought," Sam fumbled through his words. "You weren't supposed to be home until tonight."

"Yeah, well, there was a change of plans." John pulled away from the curb and into traffic. He glanced sideways at Sam. "You still sound like crap – feeling any better?"

Sam opened his mouth to lie and say he was fine, but then shrugged and admitted, "A bit. It's moved into my head now."

"Headache, huh?" his father sympathized and something warmed inside the teen. "Why don't you lie down when we get in, catch a bit of sleep before Dean calls." The younger Winchester smiled at the mention of his brother even as the older man continued, almost as though talking to himself. "No one can wind you up better then him."

"Do you think he'll call tonight?" Sam winced as his voice cracked halfway through. His father searched for something in his pocket then tossed a full packet of throat lozenges at him.

"He's called every night since he left, hasn't he? I highly doubt he'll stop tonight," John admitted dryly and Sam wondered why his father suddenly sounded irritated.

"Are you mad at him?" he found himself asking as he tore open the package and flipped a cough drop into his mouth. Cherry flavored, it was like heaven.

"Not really," the older man admitted. "I'm just tired."

"Okay." Sam didn't know what else to say to that so he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as the throbbing right behind his eyes pounded almost painfully now.

"How's the head?" His father's question had Sam opening his eyes and turning his blurry gaze towards the man.

"Not fun," he offered.

"You been sleeping?" John asked, turning the truck wipers on the highest setting; the rain pounded the windshield as the storm intensified.

"Not much," Sam admitted. "You know the guys next door…" There was a group of deer hunters staying in the motel room next to them and they enjoyed their beers and loud bragging late into the night. It made it impossible for Sam to get to sleep at a decent time and then when he did finally pass out, it was an uneasy rest as he subconsciously worried about them.

"They still there?" His father sounded surprised.

"Yeah," Sam gave him a tired smile. "Motel guy threatened to call the cops on them last night though."

"That must have made them happy," John muttered dryly, his jaw tightening.

Sam shrugged. "Heh, they shut up, that's all I care about." He leaned his head back against the seat again but didn't close his eyes this time.

They drove the rest of the way in silence until John pulled into the parking lot. Then his father swore loudly and Sam grimaced and let out a soft sigh. The morons staying next door had two vehicles, one of which they parked in front of the door while the other they parked in the visitor parking further away from the building. But today – probably because of the storm – the idiots had put their second truck in front of the Winchester's room.

"Go inside," John growled as he stopped the truck behind the illegally parked vehicle and got out.

Sam grabbed his backpack. He opened his mouth to offer to back his father up as he confronted the deer hunters but one look at his father's face, black with anger, and the teen changed his mind. There might be three of the other guys but Sam's money was on his father.

John waited until Sam was inside the room before he pounded loudly on the other door. The teen listened to the raised voices as he dropped his backpack by the small table just inside the door, and tugged off his wet hoodie, shivering slightly in the cool room and even more thankful that he didn't have to walk home.

A few minutes later a very agitated looking John burst into the room just as Sam was trying to coax a little heat out of the heater. It was a fickle beast at best.

"They move?" Sam asked on formality.

His father's curt nod had him sighing and sinking down on the edge of his bed. _Great_, he thought sarcastically, thanks to the dickheads next door his Dad was going to be in a bear of a mood for the rest of the night.

"We could go to a different motel," Sam offered quietly. He watched his father angrily sort through his duffle bag as he unpacked from the weekend hunt.

John's head jerked towards him. "I thought you liked this place?" Sam was surprised that his father had noticed but it was true, the teen did like this place. The staff was friendly, the rooms clean, the area of town was nice and he'd even made a couple of friends nearby. But still, he didn't want his father getting into it with the neighbors when Sam had overheard that the guys were staying another week as well.

"Well, I do… but," he glanced at the wall they shared with the other room, "it's okay." He shrugged casually. "We can move."

"No, Sam," his father's voice was firm. "We're staying. Now go grab a shower, it'll help get that chill out of your bones… I'm going to grab some grub from that place across the street; I should be back by the time you're done." John found something in the bottom of his duffel and tossed it at Sam. It was a bottle of Aspirin ™. "Take two – I'll be back in ten." And then the man was gone leaving Sam once again surprised. Not that his father was neglectful or anything. Not really. But it was almost surreal that the former Marine had seen through Sam's 'it's not too bad' façade.

Although, Dean always said he was transparent…

Palming two pills, Sam grabbed a pair of sleep pants, t-shirt and moved into the bathroom. Quickly swallowing the meds down with a mouthful of water, he turned on the shower and fiddled around until he got the perfect temperature. Already lassitude was seeping into his body and the teen wasn't sure he was going to be able to stay awake long enough to eat something, let alone do his homework afterwards. _Oh well,_ he decided as he stepped under the hot spray, _one thing at a time_.

True to his word, by the time Sam had finished his shower, dried off and came out of the room (dressed of course), his father was back and setting up cartons of food on the small table.

Sam's nose crinkled as the smell of food made his stomach growl. His throat was still sore though so he'd have to forgo the fries his father and brother seemed to thrive on, and while the teen wasn't against them per say, the little diner across the road made theirs extra crispy and spicy. Not exactly the recipe for a sore throat.

"I wasn't sure what you'd feel for," his father didn't even turn from where he was leaned over the table taking lids off containers, "so I grabbed some soup too."

"Soup?" Sam couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, "That's cool, Dad. Really cool. Thanks." He didn't even care what kind it was. His father had picked him up soup – it was such a Dean mother-hen move that Sam couldn't help it when the grin split his face. He _was_ loved.

His father looked at him, seeming surprised by Sam's gratitude. Sam flushed at the soft look that crept across his father's face and glanced away.

"Looks good," he said having to clear his throat before speaking and hoping his father brushed it off as a residual from him still being sick. He sat down and grabbed the container and a spoon, even happier to see it was chicken noodle – his favorite.

He'd just started to dig in when the phone rang.

"Finish that first," his father gave the soup a significant look and grabbed the phone. They both knew who was on the other end. Dean.

Sam finished the soup quickly as he listened to his father and brother talking about the hunt and then waited impatiently for his turn. His stomach now full, he really just wanted to take that nap his father had mentioned earlier but needed to talk to Dean first. It was weird actually and nothing the kid could ever explain but he just slept better if he'd talked with his brother first.

After a few more minutes, John wished his oldest son good luck and finally passed the phone to Sam.

"_Hey Bitch,_" Dean's voice flooded his ear and Sam smiled on reflex.

"Jerk," Sam breathed back.

"_You still sound like crap, you taking care of yourself?" _

Sam rolled his eyes and watched as his father made short work of a thick sandwich then opened his journal and started making notes in it; probably updating it on his most recent hunt. "Love you too, bro." He neatly evaded answering because lying to Dean was almost physically painful. "How's Caleb?"

"_Still alive… Man, Sam, you should have seen this thing_…"

Sam smiled and settled back in the chair at the table as an excited Dean went on to tell him about the successful reconnaissance he and Caleb had done that day, finally getting a look at their prey. "Do you know what it is yet?" he asked when his brother finally wound down about ten minutes later.

"_Nah, Caleb thinks it could be an Agogwe or a Sehite but I say as long as the sucker can be killed, I couldn't care less if it was called Bob." _

Sam's smile was tired this time. God, he missed his brother. "Bob, huh?"

"_Hey, you sure you're okay, dude? 'Cause you sound like you're fading fast." _

His brother's concern caused something to tighten in his chest and he cleared his throat before speaking, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired." He felt his father's eyes on him and tried to straighten up a bit more from the slouch he'd slipped into.

"_Okay, well, Caleb is giving me the finger so I better go. Look Sam, if you're still feeling like crap – Hold on a sec, man."_ Sam heard Dean shout at the older man. _"Would you put it back in your pants, I'm just saying good-bye to the kid,"_ and then he was back on the line with Sam, _"take care of yourself, kiddo, okay? I should be home in a couple of days. Sam, I gotta go!"_ And then Dean was gone and the teen was left staring sadly at the phone in his hand.

Sighing softly, he got up to hang it back up then turning around he almost ran into his father. Only John's hands on his shoulder kept them from colliding. "C'mon, Sammy," his father's voice was gruffly soft, "Lie down." The man easily maneuvered Sam towards his bed. "Whatever you've got to do can wait."

Sam opened his mouth to argue.

Yes, his head was splitting, his throat hurt and his eyes stung but he had homework to do… but his protest came out as a whimper when his father pushed him down on the bed. John pulled off each of Sam's sneakers then covered him up with a heavy blanket. The bed felt so good, the mattress sinking under his weary body and Sam felt his eyes already starting to close. Maybe he'd just rest for an hour or so and then –

And then Sam was asleep before he could finish the thought.

-----

_Bang! _

Sam woke with a start. Sitting up in bed he heard his father cursing as the man grabbed his boots and started to yank them on his feet. It was dark now but Sam could still hear the storm raging outside. He blinked in confusion. "D-Dad?" His voice was a hoarse scratch across his sore throat and he winced at how much worse it sounded. He was _supposed_ to be getting better.

John glanced at him as he stood, "It's okay, son, go back to sleep." He started towards the door and Sam heard a second bang, realizing the noise was coming from the room next door. The deer hunters were at it again.

"Dad?" the teen repeated. He shoved at the blankets covering his body as he glanced at the clock. 10 PM? Oh crap. He hadn't meant to sleep that long. "Wait." He didn't want his father going over there alone, knowing full well the men would be liquored up by this time of night.

"Sammy," John sighed then grabbed Sam's hoodie. The teen thought he was going to wait for him but his father rifled through his pockets instead until he found the package of throat lozenges from earlier and tossed them on the bed next to Sam. "Stay put. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sam ignored the lozenges and stood up. "But-"

"No buts, Sam." John snagged a .45 from the arsenal spread out on table – the hunter had obviously been cleaning his weapons – and snagged the door handle. "You need to get some decent rest." He opened the door. "This won't take long," then disappeared into the night.

Standing up, Sam leaned a hand against the wall to ride out an unexpected wave of dizziness then staggered, his head pounding with each step, to the window where he shoved open the curtains just enough to peek outside. Heavy rain still pounded and it made seeing anything difficult.

The men's raucous voices silenced at the sound of pounding on the door and, although Sam could hear his father's voice, he couldn't make out what the man was saying. The deer hunters laughed – probably not too intimidated by the stranger yet – but then there was a sharp crack and everything went silent.

Dizzy for a new reason, Sam forced his legs to carry him to the door but his father met him on the way out. John's face was unreadable as he pushed him gently back into the room.

"I thought I told you to stay put." His father chided as he kept a firm grip on Sam's shoulders and steered him back into bed.

"I was worried," Sam admitted, snagging the cough drops from the bed before lying back down.

John, in the middle of fixing the blankets back over Sam, paused and looked at him. Sam wished he could read his father as well as he could his brother because he had no idea what the hunter was thinking right now. And then the man gave his shoulder a tight squeeze and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, snagging a dry shirt off the floor and using it to wipe the rain off his face. "They're just inconsiderate assholes, son. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Sam leaned back against the pillows and sighed. "I know. Stupid, huh?"

"No, not stupid," John palmed Sam's face for a moment then tweaked his nose as he stood. "_Family_. Family worries, and that's okay."

Sam let out a surprised squeak and then blushed. It had been a long time since John had done that.

His father chuckled softly as he put the handgun back down on the table and glanced towards the deer hunters' room. "They won't be bothering us anymore, I can promise you that." He looked at Sam again. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep? You're still too pale."

"My head still hurts," Sam admitted then groaned softly. "But I have homework to do."

"No you don't."

Sam looked at his father. "Dad?'

"You're staying home tomorrow. I'll be damned if I let you catch pneumonia." John sat down at the table to finish cleaning his weapons, his eyes were warm when he caught Sam's gaze. "Go to sleep, Son, I'm not going anywhere."

Truly relaxing for the first time in days, Sam's body sank into the warmth of the bed and his eyes closed. A contented smile stole across his face before he burrowed his head into the pillow and exhaled softly.

Maybe being sick wasn't so bad at all.

The End.

A/N - sometimes John love is needed.


End file.
